


Chrysalism

by Ace_of_Butterfly



Series: Tokyo Ghoul :RE - Imagination Shades [6]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Brother/Sister Moments, Emotional Conflict, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, but so is if you want it to be incest, i just love ayatouka, if you want to keep it as bro/sis awesome, this can be read differently, up to you really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6710932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_of_Butterfly/pseuds/Ace_of_Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b><br/>    <i>n. chrysalism</i><br/>  </b>
  <br/>
  <i>the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chrysalism

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul or any of its characters.**  
>  Set in the Tokyo Ghoul :re timeline. Like the tags say this can be versatile, if you want it to be strictly bro/sis then go ahead but if you also want to consider it incest be my guest. Yes, because I actually kinda sorta wrote it as hinting, lowkey incest(I'm sorry, I know some of you dislike shiping ayatouka as incest but I'm a fan of it so don't hate me-) but it's nothing extreme or even certain enough. It's only if you squint hard XD

Tremors of drizzling rain hit clear glass in cumulating blurriness and steam of coldness, a lethargic vibe searing throughout the nearly dark ambient. Thunder claps, flashes of lightning and roaring wind unite in a melody of languid storm, neither too violent nor too slow. It's moderate, contemplating and sympathizing in a nostalgia not many would identify with, more or less.

"Why are you here?"

A sigh.

"I don't know."

A pause.

"Don't pry for another answer because that's the only thing you'll get."

Touka is silent, just like minutes ago, finding a rather more productive occupation into staring at Ayato's silhouette than wondering further; he's shadowed by the morbid, poorly active light, his figure standing by the window like a statue meant to merge in sentimental value with the soft chaos outside. She feels so much at the mere significance of his presence but at the same time she feels nothing; she's numb, neutralized. Hallow. She's scared to crack the walls of her heart open and allow her sorrows and concerns to fly out.

_"Ah, rain..." Touka breaths in, seemingly happier to talk to herself that she'd ever be by talking to others. She finds herself on the small balcony of her apartment room which is situated above :RE and faces the back of the building, witnessing the beginning half of the weak storm. A smile that hides tales of sadness laced with memories and pain graces her features, barely, before it fades into nothingness. Her hand thrusts forward quitely, letting big tears of the sky to wet her palm, savouring the fresh air washing along; a moment of peace, of silence. A moment to reminiscence the past, to treasure the present and to conspire at the future._

_Suddenly, a loud knock - or better said obnoxious banging - echoes behind her. The female's eyebrows furrow slightly and she closes the glass door to her balcony before rushing to open her front door. It happens quickly, utterly and definitely shockingly._

_"Can I.. come in?"_

_His persona standing there in front of her, damped hair framing his piercing eyes, is enough to render Touka mute momentarily. The male calmly waiting to be her guest is not the same guy who kicked her to a battered mess, who mauled her kagune in between feral teeths; no, in her eyes he appears to be a whole new person, today. It is beyond her why and how he decided to end up here, however, there's no hesitation in what she chooses to do. The door slips widely inviting, she steps to the side; and just like that Ayato, her family disappointment, the renegade who'd abandoned her, her disastrous brother, lungs in her life out of nowhere, once again._

"Seriously, Touka. Have you developed selective mutism every now and then and I didn't know?"

She's snapped out of the flashback of what transpired earlier, meeting his gaze and his arched brow as he's glancing at her over his shoulder. She's quite still.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Idiot, say somethin-"

"I miss you, Ayato."

His difficulty to school his face in a blank look proves the lack of preparation of her words; it slid off the tip of her tongue unknowngly, unconsciously, and it was too late and impossible to swallow them. It's like Ayato's midnight saphirre orbs shift in color, except she knows that can't happen, but it's a convenient label for the change in them, the emotions stalking backwards as to not be revealed in the surface of the inky blue of his irises.

Touka is in a state of battle between the powerful resistance of her mentality and the stronger essence of her feelings; she's not done, not yet. With what can deem her posessed by the sole determination of the agony poisoning her soul, she steps forward, one, two, three, four strides. It doesn't takes long to reach Ayato and in the swirl of her suffering inner self she uses whatever courage she has and brings her arms around him in a tight back hug, vowing to not let go, not even if he'll drive holes through her with his kagune.

"I miss you. Ayato." She repeats, failing to notice how the younger stiffens and tenses in her hold, she's too unfocused to note the way his heart increases in beats, much to the point it might drum to the rhythm of her own which is thudding somewhere against his spinal bones, through the fabric of their shirts.

"But I'm here..." he dumbly replies, voice keeping its natural tonance of flatness, of dormant iciness, luckly, as to not show the burns, caused by her words and touch that consume his insides, for the world to see.

"You are... yet... you're not."

"That makes no sense."

"It does." She argues, lifting her head from the slope of his shoulder blades to join him into staring outside of the window, the sounds of rain serving as a lullaby for their distraughted, rugged thoughts.

"It doesn't matter that you're physicaly present here, with me, because I feel you so far, far away..." Touka trails off. "You're cold, and isolated, and just... non-empathic. There's no warmt to you, no closeness, no emotional anchor to help you stop from going farther into the deep, dark seas you've chosen. It's sad..."

She's embracing him so very affectionately, like a protective mother would shield her child to the last of her breaths, although, he's no longer the kid she used to raise through their struggle in childhood, nor is he the reckless, spitefull teenager he'd been a few years ago. He's grown up now, he's become a different person, despite harboring traits and morals of his character evidently intact; he's taller, broader, and stronger, and it's his turn to wrap her in armor and shelter her in his grip, to take care of her like she did to him when he was little. But Touka asks for no such thing, a hug from him would be a miracle if so and besides she's capable to live safely by herself. That doesn't extricates her wishes though and at times like these she desires for his attention, his support and care. His affection.

A shift, a turn - Ayato untangles her off his back rapidly and spins around, firmly facing her. His gaze is stern and his hands are unforgiving when they grasp at her shoulders, all nearly punishing whilst Touka blinks tiredly, unaffected and unimpressed by his actions.

"You tell me how emotionless I am, right? I want to tell you about yourself too, Touka. Because what you've done to yourself is making me want to give you another beating."

"Then do it. I don't care."

"Fucking hell." He hisses. "Listen, you idiot. You're like a lifeless doll, all glass and paper on the inside - broken. You put on fake smiles on that pretty face of yours and mingle with people everyday, pretending to be happy. And then what? At the end of the day you lock yourself in and the mask falls off, and you're just you, plain colorless Touka. Disappointed Touka. Depressed Touka."

"I'm not depressed."

"Sure, you aren't." Ayato scoffs. "Is this what you like? What you want?"

"Stop, Ayato." She drew a breath in. "Just don't tell me-"

"-tell you how patheticaly pitiful you are?"

"Oh, there it is." She pauses, reffusing to look him in the eyes. "I should've known you came here to put salt on the wound, like you allways do. And still... stupid me believed that maybe, just maybe, you've changed..." a bitter, dry laugh stains her lips as she pushes his hands off harshly, steping backwards.

Ayato doesn't reacts for a bit, alas, he realizes in the exact same fraction how Touka is currently cutting herself open for him, letting him witness what really cowers under her brave, defiant and stuborrn personality. A vulnerable, fragile and ruined girl, a bleeding, infected heart. She makes no efforts in concealing it and for some odd reason all he wants is to turn time back to where her happiness was alive.

"Yes. You are stupid."

Her features harden, as if daring him to insult her, hurt her verbaly. What he vocalizes tho it's not what she anticipated.

"I say those things because you make me mad. Not because I came here to make your life a living hell."

"That's..." she begins, searching for a suitable sentence. "...so not like you." Touka finishes without a better option.

"Why do you care? I thought you hate me."

The male's hand aims for his semi-soaked hair, fingers gripping at noir blue locks. He's silent, gazing anywhere but at her.

"You never truely knew me, Touka. Not after we started growing up." He closes the distance in, restoring the secretly comfortable, decent space between them with caution, with a hidden yearning for peace.

"So don't ask that."

"It's okay."

The manner of her fingers climbing upwards to gingerly comb through his mane has Ayato rooted to the spot, so familiar yet so foreign. It sinks him into an atmosphere of relaxation, alleviating the hardship and torment of his routines to a numb tranquility.

"I don't need answers anymore." She continues, resting her palm onto the crown of his head, buried in his hair. For a fugitive fragment a newly acquired flame of brightness blazes in her one visible eye, the curve of her lip conceiving a tiny smile under the tip of her cian lavender side bang of locks.

"Idiot." He mocks her in his own loving way, swating her touch away. Instead, his hands travel for her cheeks, forcing her to look directly at him once he frowns.

"When was the last time you slept? Like really sleeping, not the tossing around and staring at the ceilling kind of shit."

"Why, you- shove your definition of my sleeping pattern down your throat, Ayato. I do sleep well, thank you very much." She slaps his hands off, rolling her eyes. In reality, she's indignated by the fact he guessed perfectly how she spends most of her nights.

"Yeah, that explains your pale face and why you can barely stay awake right now." He snorts. "We're ghouls, Touka, not zombies. Don't turn into one." His tone is joking eventhough he doesn't laughs.

"And you're turning daft." The older deadpans at the attempted, facepalming worthy joke. "Fine, to tell you the truth I have a shitty relationship with my sleep."

"Told you so." Ayato smirks when she admits. "Actually, what does it takes to make you sleep properly?"

"Maybe if you'd sit by my bedside and stroke my hair till I fall asleep."

"Deal. Let's do that."

Astonishment surrounds the female and all she can do is watch Ayato like he's crazy; she hadn't even meant what she said - not that she'd mind the requested treatment - and most importantly she could've sworn he will reject it right off the bat.

"Are you... serious...?"

"Yes, damn, get ready to go to sleep before I change my mind."

That night Touka fell asleep to Ayato's figure slumped next to her bed, halfway leaning beside her; she fell asleep to his fingers running thru her hair, to his breath and presence. In the meantime, Ayato lost hours of sleep in the favour of being concentrated on her soft strands onto his fingers, at her warm skin and emphasizing feminine features, at her face; he held her lastly, in a vague embrace, giving in to slumber too. All the while as the rain danced tamed rhymes and sing-songed mellow tunes on the rooftop, by the windows and around outside.


End file.
